


A Day in the Park

by SkyEverett



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Cats, F/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Playgrounds, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sherlock Holmes and Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:31:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyEverett/pseuds/SkyEverett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-The Sign of Three, Pre-His Last Vow.  John and Mary are quite happy together, and a baby girl is on the way.  Meanwhile, a man who now has a flat to himself gets bored more than usual.  Molly agrees to "babysit" Sherlock for a day while Mary and John go out together.  What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Invitation

   “C’mere, Socks!” called Molly.  A few seconds later, the scampering of little paws was heard as Molly’s newest pet kitten ran into the kitchen, mewling anxiously for food.  He was proving to be as cute as Toby. 

   Molly filled Socks’ bowl with milk and set it down, smiling mildly in adoration as the kitten lapped it up eagerly.

   It was a surprisingly nice day out.  Since Molly had a day off, she was thinking about taking a walk in the park…

_Ring ring!  Ring ring!_

   “That’s my…” Molly started to say, but she soon realized that her mobile phone was ringing a floor up.  With a sigh, she ran upstairs and into her bedroom just as her phone started on its fourth ring.

   “Hello?” she greeted, a bit winded.  “This is Molly Hooper…”

   “Molly?” answered a familiar voice.

   “John!” she exclaimed, surprised.  She hadn’t heard from him in a while.  “Hi!  How are you and Mary doing?”

   “Oh, we’re doing nice.  Great, in fact.  Mary’s expecting.”

   “How wonderful!” Molly answered, a bit overexcited for the happy couple.  “Is it a boy or a girl?  Do you know yet?”

   “It’s a girl,” answered John; he sounded really thrilled. 

   “That’s great—I’m happy for you, the both of you.”

   “Thanks.  So, um, about my calling…”

   “Oh!  Sorry for sidetracking you.”

   “No, it’s fine.  Well, Mary and I are going out.”

   “Okay,” answered Molly.  “Have a good time!”

   “Thanks.  Could I ask a favor of you, Molly?”

   “Sure!  What do you need?”

   “Now…I know he doesn’t really need a babysitter, but Sherlock’s been acting up again, and I’m a bit worried about leaving him alone—I might come back to utter chaos.”

   Molly paused in surprise.  Then, “You’re worried about him?”

   “Yeah, do you think you could…?”

   “Sure,” answered Molly, walking downstairs and grabbing her jacket.  “Right now?”

   “If you can.”

   “Alright, see you.” Molly hung up.  “Alright, boys,” she called to her cats, “I’m going out today!”

   Socks looked up from his milk and ran over to her, looking up at her with those adorable blue eyes.  He mewed softly with what Molly assumed to be worry.

   “Don’t worry,” she assured him, stroking his gray-and-white fur.  “I’ll be back soon.  But…” she trailed off, thinking.  “With Sherlock, you can never really tell, can you?  Hmmm…”  She shrugged into her jacket and picked Socks up.  “I guess I don’t really know if Sherlock is a cat person or not…”  Right then she made a decision.  “I think I’ll take you with me.”  She picked up her little kitten and smiled again as it purred happily in her arms.

   “Taxi!” she called as one came passing by. 

   “Address?” asked the cabbie.

   “Baker Street,” she replied confidently.


	2. Chapter 2

   John wasn’t wrong about being worried for Sherlock, but Molly thought that he had over-exaggerated just a bit.  When Molly walked into the flat, it was cluttered as usual and Sherlock had just sat down in his armchair and pressed his hands together. 

   “Hi, Sherlock,” she chirped.

   Sherlock’s ice blue eyes looked to where she was for a second.  “Molly,” he greeted.

   Molly smiled in return, set Socks down on the couch, and looked around the flat.  It really was a mess.  How John used to live with this man she had no idea.  “Have you got anything to drink?” she asked.

   “In the cupboard,” came the reply.

   Molly looked around inside the cupboard—it was filled with various chemical instruments—and finally located a box of Earl Grey tea bags.  _Well, better than nothing, I suppose._

   “Can I use the sink?”

   “Go ahead.”

   Molly felt a bit strange asking to use Sherlock’s kitchen appliances, but she was basically a guest, not a…babysitter, at his house.  She turned on the faucet…

   …And immediately spluttered as a stream of water hit her in the face.  “Agh—what—!”  As she struggled to turn the faucet off, she heard a deep snicker emanating from the room next to hers.  _“Sherlock!”_ she yelled, striding into the room.  Sherlock was shaking slightly and his head was bowed, obviously trying to hide his laughter.  “Why would you do something like that?!”

   “I have nothing better to do,” answered Sherlock, struggling to keep his voice steady.

   “Am I really that hilarious to you?” asked Molly, outraged.

   “Yes.”

   “For God’s sake!”  Molly made a quick mental note to get him back when she had the chance.  For now, she was going to get cleaned up.  She quickly found the bathroom and grabbed a clean towel—thank God, something clean—and wiped her face and shoulders off.  “This might be a little harder than I thought,” she muttered.  “Still, it’s for a friend.”

   Once she dried off, she walked back into the sitting room to a surprising sight.  Socks had left the couch and apparently leapt onto Sherlock’s lap, where he lay purring in content.  Sherlock, however, had gone completely still, his hands resting on the arms of his chair.  Molly couldn’t tell whether he was afraid of Socks or not.  Nevertheless, she smiled and laughed; the scene was adorable.

   “I think he likes you,” she supplied.

   “Obviously,” answered Sherlock, his mouth barely moving. 

 _Are you scared of a tiny cat, Sherlock?_ thought Molly, a bit amused.  Out loud she said “His name is Socks.”

   Sherlock’s head snapped up and he looked her straight in the eyes.  “What?”

   “Socks,” she repeated.  “That’s his name.”

   Sherlock flicked his gaze down to the purring kitten in his lap.  “It doesn’t look anything like a sock.”

   “Well, of course not,” answered Molly.  “But when I got him and took him to my house, there was a period of time when he just disappeared.  I went berserk looking for him, and when I did, he was lying in a pile of my socks that had just come out from the dryer.  He must have fallen asleep in them.”

   Sherlock was silent.

   “Thus, the name.”

   “Oh.” 

   But Molly could see that Sherlock hadn’t really been listening.  “Did you have a pet at all when you were younger?”

   A long pause.  “I had a dog once.”

   “But?” Molly pressed.  _I guess Sherlock really isn’t a cat person…_

   “But nothing.”  He avoided her gaze.

   “Oh.”  _Must be a tough subject for him,_ thought Molly. _Maybe it died._ “Well…”  She changed the subject.  “Did you get any good cases, Sherlock?”  She began walking towards the window.

   “Ah, Molly,” he muttered, but Molly paid no attention.

   “We didn’t really get anything…interesting…at the morgue this week, but I’m sure something will come up soon.”

   “Molly, I don’t think…” he said a bit louder, but once again Molly either didn’t hear him or ignored him.

   “You really should get a case soon…”  Molly trailed off as she heard something unwinding.  “What…?”  She looked up and a gigantic, hairy, black spider came down from the ceiling and caught her completely off-guard.

   She screamed and batted it away.  She wasn’t afraid of spiders, and the automatic thing before her was obviously fake, but it startled her.  _“Sherlock!”_

   “I warned you,” he protested, but she could tell that he was trying not to laugh—again.

   Molly let out of breath of frustration.  She pushed some stray strands of hair behind her ears and grabbed Sherlock by the wrist, yanking him to his feet.  Socks leapt down from Sherlock’s lap in alarm.

   “Excuse me, Mrs. Hudson?” she called down the hall.  A few moments later the old landlady appeared at the door. 

   “Hello, dear,” she said with a polite smile.  “Who are—?”

   “Oh, I’m Molly Hooper, I was here for Christmas once.”

   “Yes!  The girl who works at the morgue…”

   “Can you take care of my cat while we’re away?”

   Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  “Are we going somewhere?”

   Mrs. Hudson nodded.  “Of course, I love cats.  You two have fun.”  Molly nodded her thanks and practically dragged Sherlock down the stairs.

   “Molly, where are we going?” asked Sherlock once they had reached the bottom.

   “To the park,” answered Molly, getting her jacket and tossing Sherlock his scarf and coat. 

   Sherlock caught them, but didn’t put them on.  “Why?  It’s a place for children.”

   “I’m sure you’ll find something to do.  You can’t waste all your boredom planting traps for me.”

   “That last one was for Anderson, not y—”

   “Oh, just put your coat on,” said Molly firmly.

   Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise, but eventually did what she said.

   Molly, thankful that he was at least playing along, opened the door into the frigid London air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for Sherlock being a bit OOC there. A friend thought it would be funny, and she was right. I love it, and I'm not changing it. More humor to come! Plus, I love how Mrs. Hudson just takes what's happening in stride, like "Oh this happens all the time!"


	3. Chapter 3

   A playground, a swing-set, a seesaw, a jungle gym, a spinning tire seat, and a small pond with an old bridge across it.  That was all they had.  A few kids played around a little, but they were basically alone.  Sherlock looked at it like it was something ugly from under his shoe.

   “Oh come on, don’t be like that.” Molly slapped his arm, not unkindly.  “Just…find something to do!  I go here all the time to read books and write poems…”

   “Oh, God.”

   “Go on, then,” continued Molly, ignoring his last comment.  And she promptly strode away to a bench—the only bench in sight—and positioned herself so that she was taking up most of it.  She wasn’t going to let Sherlock get away with sitting down and doing nothing, not this time. 

_Ring ring!  Ring ring!_

   Molly pulled out her cell phone and pressed _answer._   “Hello?  This is Molly.”

   “Hi,” came John’s voice.

   “Oh!  Hello, are you and Mary having a good time?”

   “Yes, dinner’s good.  How are you and Sherlock doing?”

   Molly glanced up and saw that Sherlock had wandered over to the swing-set and was standing by one of the poles that held it upright.  A small girl in a pink dress was sitting in one of the “baby” seats and didn’t seem to be able to get out.  After a few more seconds, Sherlock abandoned his place by the pole and went to help the little girl.

   “We’re doing fine.  Great, in fact.”

   “That’s good.  Where are you guys?  At the flat?”

   “No, I took him to the park.  He obviously needed something to do.”

   “Oh.”  John paused for a second.  “What would he do at a park?”

   “Well, I’m about to find out.  Maybe help a child on the swings.”

   “Sherlock?” laughed John.  “I can’t imagine him doing something like that.”

   “Well, that’s what I saw him doing last.”

   “Alright, I believe you.  Well, I’m going to hang up now.”

   “Okay.  Tell Mary I said hi!”

   “I will.  See you.”

   Molly clicked “end” and slipped her phone into her pocket.  She really hoped John and Mary were doing all right.  She didn’t know how John dealt with Sherlock when he got like this, but she hoped that it was something like what she was doing.

   “Umm…excuse me, miss?”

   Molly looked up from her phone to see the little girl that Sherlock had tried to help.  “Yes?” she answered.

   “Umm…” the girl squirmed shyly under Molly’s gaze, but continued.  “A man tried to help me on the swings and…well, he told me you were with him.”

   “What’s your name, sweetie?”

   “Kirsti.”

   “Did something happen?” asked Molly, standing up.  Kirsti just beckoned to Molly and walked back toward the swing-set.  A bit curious as to where this was going, Molly followed her.

   Sherlock wasn’t in the kind of trouble that Molly had expected, but he was in trouble nonetheless.

   Sherlock was sitting—actually, it was more like he was trapped—in one of the baby swings with his hands calmly folded in his lap and his knees nearly under his chin.  It looked like he could kick his legs, but not much else.  Almost as if to add to the sheer irony of it all, the swing was actually moving back and forth a little, like he had tried to escape before sending Kirsti for Molly.  Kirsti swung her arms for a little while, unsure of what to do next.  After a beat, Sherlock turned his head to look at her. 

   “Molly.”

   “Yes, Sherlock?” she answered blankly.

   “I appear to be stuck.”

   At last Molly couldn’t help it.  The way he had said that—like he was mentioning the time of day—brought all of her laughter bubbling to the surface.  She wasn’t sure she was going to stop at all. 

   “Do you find this amusing?” Sherlock’s voice cut through her hilarity.

   “Yes—sorry, no…no…”  Molly tried to smother her giggles.  She knew she shouldn’t, but she was still holding her phone…

_Click._

   Sherlock’s brow furrowed.  “Molly,” he said in a warning tone.  “Delete that.  _Now.”_

   “I don’t use my blog anymore, Sherlock,” she answered, finally able to control herself.  “And Inspector Lestrade has more pictures on his phone.”

   Sherlock’s eyes grew dangerously bright.  “He does?”

   Molly nodded, refusing to say anything else for Lestrade’s own good.  “But anyway,” she continued, “about your…being stuck…um, let me see what I can do…”

   It was tedious—and it involved lots of Sherlock swinging around—but eventually Molly managed to upend the swing, causing Sherlock to fall unceremoniously onto the ground.  He got up and brushed himself off, then put his hands in his pockets and promptly walked off towards the exit to the park.

   “Where are you going?” called Molly.

   “Back home,” was Sherlock’s flat reply.  “Isn’t it obvious?”

   “Sherlock Holmes, stop right where you are!” Molly yelled.  They had only been there ten minutes—there was no way she was going to let him go back to the flat.  If he did, he would just sit and think and not pay any attention to anyone or anything.  She didn’t think she could handle that for more than five minutes.

   Thankfully Sherlock did stop, but he didn’t turn around.

   “Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” Molly said, trying to make her voice softer.  “But we only just got here, and I guess swinging just…isn’t for you.  Or adults in general.”  She blushed.   _Did I really just say that out loud?_  “So let’s do something else.”

   Sherlock sighed, and when he spoke, there was defeat in his voice.  “Like what?”

   Molly smiled.  “Come out onto the bridge with me,” she invited.  “Maybe we can feed the fish or something.”

   After waiting patiently for about 30 seconds, Sherlock turned around and followed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, what will happen next? I know there will be something involving a bridge, and I already have the end in mind! Thanks for the hits!


	4. Chapter 4

   The bridge creaked as the two stopped halfway across it, where there was a machine with fish food in it.  Molly slid two pennies into the slot and held out her hands as little fish pellets fell into them.  She offered some to Sherlock, but his hands never left his pockets.

   “Molly, I did this when I was a child,” he said.

   Molly smiled.  “Well, it is a little fun, isn’t it?”

   “By ‘child’ I mean that was four years old.”

   “Really?” The idea of a four-year-old Sherlock made her smile.  “Did your mother take you?”

   “Mycroft.”

   “Oh.” Molly had never met the older Holmes face-to-face, but from John’s stories about him, Molly could imagine that he and Sherlock didn’t have the best of sibling relationships.

   “I’m guessing you didn’t enjoy it.”

   “No,” Sherlock agreed.  His body language told her that it did not end well.

   Molly dropped a small handful of pellets into the pond and watched as the fish swam up from the bottom of the pond and swarmed around them.  Not for the first time, Molly wished that Sherlock was a more sociable person.  If he could start a conversation with her, just once, it would make her day.

_Meow._

   Sherlock looked up in mild confusion.  “Molly...?”

   “Oh, that’s just…” Molly pulled her phone out of her purse.  “I got a text.”

_Dinner was gr8, coming home now.  –J_

   Molly sighed and texted back.  _OK, we’ll come back soon.  –MH_

_There’s no rush.  Take your time.  –J_

   Molly put her phone back in her purse and released the rest of the food to the fish.  She had been leaning on the rails of the bridge, but now she stood up abruptly and was about to tell Sherlock that they were going home, when suddenly the bridge creaked loudly under her feet.  She only had time to mutter “What…?” before the board she was standing on snapped beneath her.

   A cry of alarm issued from her lips as she fell, but it was effectively cut off as Sherlock wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her out of harm’s way. 

   “Are you all right?” he asked sharply. 

   Molly nodded in return.  She had been falling for a second, and who knew how deep that pond was?  “Th-thank you, Sherlock,” she stammered.

   “You’re welcome,” he answered, relief evident in his voice.

   For a moment they stood like that, with Sherlock’s hands firmly resting on Molly’s shoulders.  Then, after a quick look at Molly’s face, Sherlock straightened up and put his hands in his pockets again.  “We should probably get back to the flat.”

   “Yes…I think that’s a good idea,” replied Molly.

   Still a little shaken from what had just happened, the two walked out of the park and down the familiar roads to Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last chapter before the tiny epilogue.


	5. Epilogue

   Molly sighed as she got into her pajamas.  Socks waited anxiously on her bed, purring.  Molly got into bed and stroked Sock’s soft fur and thought about her day with Sherlock. 

   He had seemed so apathetic the entire day, but when the bridge had broken, Sherlock was all too quick to make sure she was all right…did that mean that he cared?

   The thought filled Molly with a sense of happiness.  _I still love Sherlock_ , she thought.  _And maybe there will come a time when we’ll become closer…_

_…but for now, it isn’t meant to be._

* * *

 

_Molly Hooper works at the morgue in St. Bart’s Hospital.  She owns two cats.  She is more intelligent than she lets on.  She was the only one that I trusted when I battled Moriarty for the last time.  She has had feelings for me for quite some time and despite her countless boyfriends—one of which tried to kill me—she still does.  She has an inner fire that rarely comes to the surface._

_Do I have feelings for her?_

   Sherlock stopped at the question, a little surprised that he had even come to think about it.  He had not thought about…what was the word… _sentiment_ …since the case with Irene Adler, the Woman.  While he did not deny that he had saved her life, he did not _love_ her; he only thought it was unfair that she had to die.  And now she was the only human being to escape his brother’s watchful eye.

   So, back to the question: no matter how small the feeling, did he care for the young woman that had helped him ever since she came to St. Bart’s?

_Yes.  Yes, I think I do._

   And with that, Sherlock Holmes turned off the lamp and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first really big romance novel aside from "I Will Always Return." Comments are appreciated, and I'll get more into writing Sherlock and Dr. Who fanfics soon. Right now I've got stupid school to deal with.


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